I’ve been going out to eata lot lately. I feel like I’m finally starting to figure out this Paris thing, and a big part of that is hanging out with friends at good restaurants… which means that I’m not cooking as much.

There’s this thing that happens when I eat a lot of restaurant food, though, where I start to crave the kind of thing that restaurants don’t tend to serve. Long-simmered, inexpensive cuts of meat. Saucy brown stuff. The kind of food that isn’t pretty on a plate, but sticks to your ribs.

Maybe it’s the weather. I keep telling myself that I’m looking forward to actually feeling a change in seasons instead of just watching them go by on the calendar, but the truth is that even in this 60° weather, I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning. I burrito myself in the covers and try to forget that in a couple of months, I am going to have to go to bed in socks and sweats and possibly a second blanket.

And so, braising. Hours of oven on-time to heat the apartment more than our temperamental heater can. Hours of bubbling braising liquid to slowly envelop the apartment in red wine scent. And, finally, after hours, a hearty, body-filling and fall-apart tender dinner of braised short ribs and creamy polenta, curled up with the gentleman on the couch. Possibly more red wine.